


What Do You Get When You Add a Poet and a Mentats-Buzzed Founding Pirate?

by DireDigression



Series: The Eagle Has Landed [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Poetry, Post-Game(s), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DireDigression/pseuds/DireDigression
Summary: A new guy comes into Goodneighbor. He's wearing an amazing flamingo shirt and is immune to pick-up lines. Hancock is already besotted.(And the new guy thinks Hancock has some pretty good words, too.)
Relationships: John Hancock (Fallout)/Original Character(s), John Hancock (Fallout)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Eagle Has Landed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901959
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	What Do You Get When You Add a Poet and a Mentats-Buzzed Founding Pirate?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allislaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The System is Rigged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076688) by [allislaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter). 
  * Inspired by [Becoming Sole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272891) by [DireDigression](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DireDigression/pseuds/DireDigression). 



> Apollo Ray is allislaughter's OC, and the referenced General is my OC, Sole.
> 
> So allislaughter (@glitchvault74 on tumblr) and I were tossing ideas back and forth about what would happen if Apollo woke up in my Sole's universe (the cleverly named Soleverse) instead of the The System is Rigged (TSiR) universe. However, Deacon is a woman in Soleverse, and Apollo is still very gay, so...changes had to be made. Thus, this magical experience was born.
> 
> This is mostly Hancock being Hancock, so don't worry too much if you haven't read TSiR (although I highly recommend reading it), but you'll miss some of the details about Apollo and his storyline.

Dusk settles over Goodneighbor. Mayor John Hancock sits at his desk, tapping a pen erratically against the scarred wood as he glares at a report on his desk. It's hard to appreciate the recent swell of business in town when it means late nights of paperwork like this, ever more frequent. With daylight fading, he's gonna have to get up and turn on lights soon to finish the work.

A curt knock precedes Fahrenheit's uninvited entrance. "Hancock, we got Valentine and company approaching town."

"No shit! Comin' right down." He pushes back from his desk to follow Fahrenheit out of the room. Visits from Diamond City's detective are too rare, and he's all too willing to use the excuse to take a break from mayoral duties. He snags a couple mentats on the way out the door—grape, excellent—and tosses them in his mouth. They give way with that familiar chalky explosion under his teeth, filling his mouth with a flavor he can only vaguely connect to...mutfruit, maybe? The important part was that they tasted like grape mentats. No thready connection to an actual fruit required. Always a good idea to sharpen up a bit before these encounters; much as he likes to think he and the old bot are on friendly terms, Detective Nick Valentine is not a person Hancock wants to risk thinking he's unfit to run his town.

Patting a triggerman brighty on his head as he passes, Hancock strides through the state house door and around the corner, just in time to see the city gate open. The detective strides in, hands in his trenchcoat pockets, bright golden eyes glowering around at the surroundings as if he expects to be jumped from the shadows. Hancock chuckles at the typical wariness. Valentine should know better by now, no triggermen are gonna jump him here. Not unless Hancock tells them to.

Hancock almost doesn't notice the second man, following in Nick's shadow, almost tripping over his heels, until Valentine shifts and the man is suddenly caught in the spotlight of the streetlamp. He's small, scruffy, with wild dark hair and wild dark eyes that flit in awe across the town front. His hand seems to twitch nervously in the direction of Valentine's. If it isn't obvious enough that this is his first time in Goodneighbor, that spectacular shirt gives it away. Hancock would've remembered that particular combination of flamingos and leaves. But damn if it doesn't somehow work on this guy. It's kinda workin' on Hancock, that's for sure.

Then the man's eyes settle on him, scan him top to bottom back to top, and go wide.

Hancock grins. He can work with this.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, "if it isn't Nicky Valentine himself. Always a pleasure to have you grace my town."

"Good to see you again, John. You survivin' alright out here?"

"Ah, sure, doin' just fine. But tell me, who is this handsome creature you've brought me?"

Nick levels a hard look at him. "He's just visiting, and he's off limits. This is Apollo Ray."

Apollo Ray, looking a bit less bewildered, begins to step forward and lift a hand before seeming to catch himself. _A handshake?_ Only a couple very specific people he knows out here have that particular Old-World habit, and one of them is the other person standing in front of him. And that quick to—well, almost—offer one to a ghoul? He could return it in kind, or...

He sweeps forward, catching the relevant hand in his own and bowing deeply over it, pressing his lips to the man's knuckles. There's only a slight jerk of the hand to suggest he was startled by the unexpected action. _Interesting._ The hand is warm and soft in his. Still bowed over it, he gazes up, heavy-lidded, to meet Apollo's wide-eyed gaze from under his tricorn. "A pleasure to meet you," he murmurs, "Apollo Ray."

And then, before Apollo can react or Nick can manage much more than a growled, "John—", he's upright and back at an appropriate distance from the two. "I'm John Hancock, and I'm the mayor of this little slice of chaos." He moves to continue, but suddenly Apollo, though heavily flushed, is no longer bewildered and is instead looking very offended. "Uh...you okay there, brother?"

Apollo turns his glare on the also-bemused Valentine. "Dea—Jane told me John Hancock was fictional!"

A stifled snort breaks out from among some nearby drifters as Nick rolls his eyes. Hancock glares over at them. One woman seems to be deeply engrossed in her newspaper. Which looks two hundred years old. Which she's reading at night in sunglasses. He sighs. "Well, Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people. Every freak and misfit is welcome, unfortunately including our friend _Jane_ ." This time, an irritated sniff is heard. "So long as they remember who's in charge." _Get over your damn self, Deacon._

" _Anyway._ What brings you out here, Nicky? Bringing your man there on a romantic getaway?" He waggles his nonexistent eyebrows.

Nick's silicone face continues to be grumpy. "I'm here on a case. Apollo is..." he glances at the drifters, then pointedly back at Hancock, "new to the area, needed a place to stay and a guide, so he's tagging along with me."

"Ahah. Well, I'll be happy to take _good care_ of our visitor if he ever needs a break from the ol' robo-dick over here." Hancock offers Apollo his most charming smile, with a nice slather of suggestive on top.

Apollo just looks confused. "I like Nick. Why would I want a break from him?"

Huh. That's not the way that line usually plays out. Disgust, rejection, sure, those are to be expected. The occasional flirty repartee. But...confusion? Like the line went right over his head? That's unusual enough to pique his interest. And to pique more than that, with that face and that—

"Your help won't be necessary, Hancock." Nick glares at him as though those synth microphone ears are good enough to hear the thoughts running through his brain. "We'll be staying at the Rex."

He refreshes his smile with a bit of a smirk. "Well, there'll always be a bed for you at the State House if you need it, handsome," he tells Apollo, to which Apollo cheerfully replies, "I won't, thank you though!"

 _What the hell do I do with this one?_

He always liked a challenge.

"Allow me to escort you to the Rex, at least." He gestures broadly down the street. "Give us a bit more time to catch up, cause I know you'll refuse a drink at the Rail." Nick was remarkably easy to guilt over not spending enough time with friends, and Hancock wasn't above taking full advantage.

As expected, Nick sighs and nods. "Alright then." The three set off down the street.

"So how's the detective business going? Ellie still survivin' runnin' herd on ya?"

"Yeah, she's somehow still keeping me in line.She's not around as much anymore though, she's about moved in with Piper."

"Aww, our baby girl's growing up!" As partial as he is to Goodneighbor, Ellie embodies the class and fortitude of the good side of Diamond City. She deserves a stable home there and a fierce gal like Piper at her back. "You might need yaself a new herder soon."

"Lucky me, Apollo's turning into a good secretary in his own right. Might need to put him on the payroll full time soon." He turns a smile on Apollo, who ducks his head with a grin.

"Speakin' of..." Hancock casts an eye around to make sure their wandering had led them somewhere sufficiently private. "What's the deal with our sunny new friend anyway?" An idea prompts a wicked grin to his face. "Did it hurt when ya fell from Olympus, gorgeous?"

Apollo flushes unexpectedly red. "Sunny...Olympus...you know the reference!"

 _Oh._ So that's what it takes, huh? "Sure do. So, you come here straight from the mountain or take a detour first? Spend any time, ah, wrestlin' some big snakes?"

Nick chokes a bit. Apollo, finally, looks totally flustered. "I...uh...that's _good_..." He takes a breath, and then words spill out in a rush. "Promises strangled by Olympian snakes. Nothing but mice to...test and to take. Old-world morals bear pythogenic sin. But...they made me the snake...just a shed of the skin..." He looks down at himself, then wraps his arms tight around his body and the flamingo shirt. Another breath as he pauses, shakier than before. "Detour through a crisper drawer. Fell 'sleep in 1492. Crisper Columbus. Sailed 'cross the centuries blue. Unhiber—bernoull—liated. Pressure differential of change."

Hancock cocks his head. The mentats aren't translating the odd speech.

"He had a, uh, similar experience as our General friend," Nick elaborates. Ah. That confirms his suspicions about the handshake. "And seems to be of interest to the same group, or something similar," he adds, lower.

A wave of fury and protectiveness blasts into Hancock's chest. Nuh-uh. No way those fuckers were getting their claws on any of his people again. He grins, all teeth, eyes angry dark slits, hand going instinctively to his shotgun. "Well then, it's a good thing he's here, huh? Most dangerous town in the 'Wealth for those bastards to set foot."

Nick eyes him solemnly and says nothing.

After a few seething steps, Apollo's soft voice breaks the silence. "How do you know...uh...that reference? Are you...from before?"

"You mean am I a pre-war ghoul? Nah, I just read a lotta their books." The anger fades as he chuckles. "We got a lotta them pre-war types around here though, I bet Daisy'd love to talk to ya. Me, I got myself this way a few years back. Experimental radiation drug. Got me a great high and this sexy 'king of the zombies' look. Ya like it?" He grins and smooths his vest seductively.

But Apollo is just staring at the ground as he walks, lips moving, apparently talking to himself. Oh. Okay then. He's not hurt at being ignored. Not at all.

Undeterred, he keeps on. Nick will probably tell Apollo the story anyway, so he might as well get his version in first. Now that the 'Wealth knows, it gets easier with every retelling. "Grew up in Diamond City back when I had a smooth set o' skin, gave Nicky here all sortsa trouble chasin' me down tryna keep me under control."

Nick snorts. "Ain't that the truth."

"But then the Great Green Jewel kicked out their ghouls, and I wasn't standin' for that, so I left with 'em. Set up here in Goodneighbor, even though it was a raider hole then. Got tired of their skeezy leader kickin' drifters around, right 'round the time I went ghoul. Got a group of my own and led a coup. Been Mayor Hancock ever since."

Now Apollo is focused on him, dark eyes serious, and he's suddenly self-conscious. "So, uh, yeah. 'Of the people, for the people.' Been that way since I was, ah, elected. Expect to be put down once I stop livin' by that." He chuckles weakly, rubbing his neck. Why is this suddenly so difficult? It's his favorite subject, himself. And he skipped the hard parts. What's wrong with him?

" _Of the people he's made, for the people he burned, to do what is right in his dark eyes transformed..._ " His eyes go wide at Apollo's soft voice. " _Though like armor he pulls on his danger and coat, scars don't burn off the pain that still clings in his throat..._ "

There's an awkward silence as Hancock processes the statement. Then Apollo shakes his head abruptly, looking away. "Sor—sorry. Didn't mean to. Make you uncomf-comforb-ble. S'thing I do. Say weird—word...things."

Hancock is uncomfortable, but he shakes off the feeling and instead focuses on _the guy just casually wrote poetry at me!_ "Nah, don't you worry. I shoulda expected our Apollo t'be recitin' poetry! You just come up with that?"

Apollo glances back up, mouth twisting into a shy smile. _Damn_ , he's cute flustered. "Yeah. Needs—mind if?—" He frantically scrabbles in his pack, pulls out a notebook and pen, and drops to the ground to scribble. Hancock suppresses a grimace. No telling what he's sitting in.

Apollo finishes, and they continue the rest of the way to the door of the Rex.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your time in our little community. You lemme know if there's anything I can do that'll make your stay a _pleasure_ , got it?" He holds Apollo's gaze.

"Yes, John, we'll let you know if we need anything," Nick sighs. "See you around."

"Oh, I intend to." He gives Apollo a deep, flourishing bow that leaves him blushing all over again, and then he sweeps away.

His casual demeanor and easy grin lasts until he's safely inside the state house. "Fahrenheit!" he bellows as the door slams. "Find out Apollo's favorite drink, stat!"

* * *

Apollo sits cross-legged on the bed in their room at the Hotel Rexford, tucked into the corner of the wall, Li'l Deacon the sunglasses-wearing teddy in his lap and his notebook propped on one knee. The pen casing flexes slightly under his teeth as he reviews his work.

Nick had given him more background on Hancock after they'd settled into their room. Not that Hancock had...lied, necessarily. But he'd left out important details. Such as how the mayor who'd kicked out the ghouls was Hancock's brother. Or how much violence and drugs and...other things...he'd been involved in, both as part of and separate from the coup. Or how much shame and guilt he'd felt at his inability to defend the ghouls and drifters.

_A town like a lighthouse, its bright neon lies_

_Offer comfort and peace to the lost, for a price._

_The streetlamp light judges, and in shadows bad strangers,_

_Enshrouded, there haggle the cost of their dangers._

_Entertainer near feral, this patriot king,_

_A pirate presiding, a coattail to cling_

_To, he laughs at the madness and holds out a hand_

_To the misfits and freaks that, here, rudderless, land._

_Of the people he's made, for the people he burned,_

_To do what is right in his dark eyes transformed._

_Though like armor he pulls on his danger and coat,_

_Scars don't burn off the shame that still clings in his throat._

_He's transfigured his body, remade much like me,_

_But different his goal: not become, but to flee._

_Yet this beacon still beckons, and though far we roam,_

_Perhaps neon light will guide us both home._

His hand tingles. The one that Hancock had kissed. He flexes it, stares at the knuckles. Pictures the lips against those knuckles. Remembers those _words_. A bit of glee begins to bubble up his chest and twist his mouth into a grin. He sets the notebook and pen carefully on the bedside table, rolls on his side, and curls around the bear to sleep.


End file.
